Adrift

The last leaves are golden,
most have already flown. Branches
hang bare beneath ashen skies.
Not so different from when you climbed,
hand over slow hand, waging a war
inside your young mind. One leaf
breaks free, hangs on a moment,
before leaping into the maelstrom.
I imagine a short fall,
sharp jerk and silence;
but it’s only a leaf and spirals away,
no note to mark its passing.

There are so many brilliant metaphors in these lines.
I love how you talk of leaves but really you don’t. There is so much more behind your words than what they seem at first. It is like unwrapping a gift, finding a beautiful box, itself enclosing a present even more meaningful and precious. Thank you for this journey into the workings of your beautiful mind.

Ryan, I am just now discovering your amazing blog, late on a Friday night. There is something so haunting and beautiful about fall and the state of decay that accompanies it. You have so richly captured it here. I look forward to reading more of your work…Lola

This has strong feelings inside. To be like that leaf.. falling and returning back to earth, enjoying the last moments worry free, and happy. Wow Ryan. A very poignant and moving piece. It reminded me of the novel A Separate Peace a bit, by by John Knowles.

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Ryan Stone writes after midnight. His short fiction and poetry have appeared in publications including Eunoia Review, The Drabble, Algebra of Owls and Silver Birch Press and won prizes in a number of competitions at venues including Grindstone, Writer Advice, Goodreads, Writers’ Forum Magazine and Poetry Nook. He lives in Melbourne, Australia.